Turbulence
by refracted
Summary: Sasuke has always been an Uchiha. But the question is: was he too much of one?
1. Chapter 1

_And if I die before I wake,_

_I pray the Lord my soul to take,_

_Because I'm ready for a funeral._

* * *

><p><strong>Turbulence<strong>

* * *

><p>Out of all the years you have known her, not once did you think you were good enough.<p>

Take an everyday activity, for instance. You would look at yourself in the mirror every morning of every day, like most people. But if you truly were akin to everyone else, you suppose that you would've been proud with what you see in the reflection. In reality, you probably should be. Look at yourself. You are flawless. You have the pale skin that appears as if it's a thousand snowflakes merging together to form a perfect, icy complexion that glows incandescently. You have the cheek and jaw bones that don't make you look like a ghost or someone fragile, but a person who holds themselves completely, framing your entire face into a masterpiece. Your eyes are from the deepest onyx gems of the Earth, and they can either gleam with the purity that they are, or smoulder as if it were burning liquid from under the core. Your hair is almost an abstract artwork; it is splattered in all different directions, but it is somewhat right. The stygian colour of your hair shines midnight in the sun and moonlight and it trails down the crevice of your jaw like gumdrops.

You don't think you even need to consider the rest of your physique if you were a downright selfish fool. People think you are, but you're not. You may have the body of a Greek god, however you can never be as wise or holy as one. You know that every morning of every day when you look away from the mirror, you are disappointed, despite all the reasons you should not be. You are successful. You have the best work ethic that anyone could ever hope for. You are more than comfortable with your economic and social status. You know that you could get up in the morning and know that you were higher up than most people out there.

But that's just it. You're an _Uchiha. _Nobody sees you as _Sasuke. _Everyone idolises your so-called perfection, even if this perfection is nothing close to righteous. Your perfection is systematic, robotic, empty. You may do everything right, give your patriotic one-word answers and thwart the rest of the workplace under your condescension, however are you actually good enough for anyone? Maybe it's that perfection that distances you away from everyone. The fact that people believe you are so high above them, that they are just aching to get past the glass ceiling so they can do more than just look when it comes to you—even when all along, you have been the person looking up at _them._

You are alone. Utterly, utterly alone.

You are a replica of Gordon Gekko. Maybe even worse. At least sometimes, he gets his head out of the clouds. People weren't kidding when they said money never sleeps, because in your world, it never ends. Sometimes you wish you had just taken off like your faceless brother had, but then you clench your jaw and claim that no, you won't, because you are _obligated _to so many expectations that are held in front of you. Your father would want you to be doing this. He wouldn't want you to be running away like your nuisance of a brother. He wouldn't want you to be a failure. He wouldn't want you to be... yourself.

There are times that you are able to just lay in your lonesome bed and _pause time. _Just maybe have a few seconds—_is that so hard to ask for?_—to give to yourself. You so much wish that you could live for yourself. You are drowning under the surface, stifling your breaths and seeing the limitless sky above you. The freedom that you will never reach.

And that is where she comes in.

You have known her for _years_, but it really feels like centuries. You met her in a retirement castle: you were young then, perhaps not being a CEO, but still fulfilling your father's wishes. Your father wanted you to experience a variety of environments that considered the work place, and you had to admit you had groaned audibly at the thought of a retirement castle. As of present, you can't quite decide whether or not you would take back going there.

As a boy of youth, you were capable of having a vast knowledge of technology, one that most elderly people lacked of. You remember the grayscale atmosphere of the retirement castle and having to repeat over and over again on how to bring up the internet explorer, because everything seemed unrealistically new to the elderly people. You first see her once you decide to block the reality of monitor screens, clicking buttons and eternal questions. You know that from the very start, you are entirely different to her, and that no matter what you did, you would never catch up to her.

She was helping the more discontent elderly people—well, that was one way to put it. Some of them were mentally disabled, and you wondered why on Earth somebody would want to take on that job. It confused you even more when you saw the smile on her face. It wasn't a smile that marked a façade, but a smile of earnest. You had seen that smile many times, from your now-dead mother. It was a smile from helping people. The smile readily acquainted her soft face and her glistening emerald eyes, of which shone through the monotony of the retirement castle. She had a slight natural rose blush on her cheeks and the shade was mirrored in her bubblegum hair that was messily tied up in a high bun, a few escaping strands framing her face. She had a petite figure to say the least, and she looked fragile, toppling over the edge. More than ever, you had realised how easily you could knock her down.

But what you did not expect was how she would be coming for more.

Only at the end of lunch do you decide to actually approach her. She is cleaning up the remaining plates and scraps of food when you do. You stand a few metres away from her, however it is close enough for her to notice your presence. As always, you do not say anything, as you are waiting for her to initiate the conversation. She places the plates and utilities in the basin and turns around, instantly facing towards your direction. She crosses her arms, a smile emerging on her face as she leant against the basin, scrutinising you.

Her eyes sparkle. "Hello, stranger," she remarks, sounding more joyful than you think she should.

You take a moment before you reply. "Hn," is all you say. Typical. Nonetheless, she is not yielded by your lack of a response. In fact, she actually had seemed curious, and her eyes crease in wonderment.

"Who are you?" she asks, a rather generic question, but there is an edge of the inquisition that she is unable to hide.

You have heard the question a thousand times, so you answer in the same way that you always do. "An Uchiha." If you had to really look back on it, this was really a ridiculous way to answer such a question. Despite that, it was how you were made. You were made to get through life by your name, not by who you were. Everyone always accepted you because you were an Uchiha, even if there were underlyings of disdain and envy. You say it in such a dead-panned voice that she raises her eyebrow, surprised by your response. You can tell that she knows who Uchihas are because that was just how it was for your clan. You were recognised beyond belief and glorified even more.

Strangely enough, she just shrugs. She returns back to the basin and turns on the tap, rinsing the plates. After a few seconds, she turns her head by her shoulder, her smile even wider across her lips. There is an unmistakable feeling of understanding that swarms in her irises, as if she knows how you are already. As if she knows how much of you is conventional to your clan.

"Silly," she murmurs, in a soft voice, the tone like a caress. "I asked _who _you are, not _what _you are." If it were anyone else, you probably would've taken this as an offence. Claiming the Uchiha name as just a 'what'—a seemingly insignificant thing, was unheard of. But you know that she doesn't mean it in that way, because she waits quietly for your reply, acknowledging that you need the time.

Your eyes pierce into hers. "Sasuke," you say, with a new-found strength, with fresh confidence. You suddenly feel like yourself. Not a model actor.

She swivels back around so that she is facing you again, and the next thing she says makes you almost believe that your mother is still alive, because this strange, strange girl sounds so much like her. She makes you feel warm all over, the calm that you have never felt ever since your mother had died. It had been replaced by the idiosyncratic cold of your father, and that's all you've ever known. The constricting of your throat and the burning of your chest is surely real and alive at this moment, but soon you know that it will blossom into a spring. Change.

"Well, Sasuke," she whispers, her voice even softer now, the tantalizing crawl on your spine almost unbearable now. "You aren't just an Uchiha."

You can hear the unsaid words as she walks away from you, deafening and immobilizing. _So don't try to be one._

* * *

><p>You wonder sometimes now, why you didn't ever listen to her words.<p>

Of course, you're usually blinded by the veil of ignorance and at first you didn't realise the meaning that was held in the words she said. You used to believe that you were able to survive this world on your own, because that's all you've ever known. You're so filled with obligations that you think one day, you might just crack. You are no where close to invincible. You can't take everyone's blows. You've never been designed to be a hero for any matter. Or at least you think.

These days when you pass her, you are aware of how you act towards her. In fact, it's rather brutal, and if it was anyone else in her place, they would've surely given up on her. You talk to her like she's a stranger, even if she's probably the best thing that has ever walked into your life. You can't bring yourself to say what you want to, especially when every part of her beckons you to cradle her in your arms. You can't because you're an _Uchiha. _You're not meant to be friends with anyone. You're meant to be successful, have a comfortable life and be isolated so there is nothing to weaken you down.

You question why she still bothers with you. You know how you are. You might as well be a demon. Your eyes hold nothing that can be given away. Your skin has aged to the extent that it makes you seem ancient; the complexion holding so much anger, so much adulteration. Your hands are the very fingers of death and surely enough, you destroy anyone that you brush past.

She catches you on one of your scarce breaks from the company, from all of the stress. You are sitting under a cherry blossom tree, and really, it is no coincidence. She finds you from metres away because she has your image edged into your mind, just like hers is for you. She walks towards you in a cautious manner, as if you are going to explode at her, and you can't help but to feel scornful at yourself for causing this unease. The light in her eyes has been harder to find every time she approaches you, but even if it is getting inevitably less and less, you know that if you looked far enough you would find it. You always would.

But most of all, her eyes look sad. You can't say that she's disappointed... it's more of a self-defeating expression. She looks like she's blaming herself on your downfall. It was always coming, though.

She sits next to you, touching your arm. The feel is so unfamiliar that you flinch away from her, and that just reminds you how much you really do distance yourself away from others. However, you have never distanced yourself away from others because of dislike. You have always done it because you believe that they deserved better; somewhat a protection from yourself.

"Sasuke," she whispers, every syllable engraved with apologies. You don't know what she's sorry for, and the long-lost suffix of a '-kun' does not go unnoticed.

You don't give a reply. You stare forward to the grass that's swaying slightly to the breeze, and the wind is a relief to the endless burning that rages inside of your very soul. You decide that you can afford to look at her, but the moment you do, you regret it. She looks so tired and worn down, perhaps worn down by you. She appears as if she's about to give up, but such a thing was unheard of when it came to you. She was always relentlessly coming back for more, trying again and again to no result.

You cringe at how much you've brought her down. You don't deserve one second of your presence, her purity, her light. She's really like a guardian angel, but you believe so _thoroughly _that you're not the person she's meant to save. She could be so much happier... You stand up, and you ignore her how stance crumbles when you do. "I have work, Sakura," you mutter, dismissively. Your voice is laced with ice, and you fight to not grimace when her eyes fill with tears. It's been like this for a while now, and you honestly have no idea how you could've let it change to this, though you're sure it's because of you.

She grips your arm in desperation. "_Sasuke_," she gasps, as if choking on air, "please. I'm your friend." The word choice of 'friend' makes you start for a moment as you turn back to her, considering. One part of you appreciates that she had chosen the non-romantic method to address this lingering problem, but the another part of you knows that everything of how she acts towards you negates that. This pulses through your veins, an unquenchable poison. God, you know that you do love her. You still do. And perhaps, you always will.

_Don't be..._

"We haven't been close for a while," you say, with nothing in your voice. You might as well be announcing the time.

You watch her bite her lip and try to conceal her tears. The phrase annihilates every part of her, and god damn, you just wish that she would _break. _You just wish she wasn't strong enough to stand back up again. You just wish she would _hate you. _Like everyone else. She shakes with the pain that pronounces through her, and the need to comfort her shudders through you.

You speak again, delivering the words that you know will crush her, but words that you won't stop all the same. "We weren't always like this," you muse, staring up at the air, smirking cynically. "Begging on small talk. We've never had anything in common, Sakura. And that was the death of us. We can't work." The blows that you rain on her, you know, will never be as painful as how they crash upon you.

She straightens her neck and stares at you with that same defiance you've always known. She doesn't even attempt to screech at you and tell you that it's _your _fault, even if it is. She definitely could, and that would be the end of it, but she doesn't. You know what she's going to say.

She swallows, hard. "If I were to give up on you, Sasuke," she mumbles, breaking with every word, "who would I be?" She looks at you for a moment, requesting you to answer the question, but you don't. You just continue to drill holes into her head. She sighs. "I would be like _everyone else_," she concludes for you. "I was never meant to do that. I wanted to make you happy, because I knew that if I didn't, who would?" She laughs weakly at herself, as if trying to convince herself that she wasn't melting away as she was.

She takes in a deep breath, and her eyes renew with the glow and growth of green. "Sasuke-kun, I love—"

"No," you break in, your voice like a cutting razor, "stop." She doesn't, though.

She's pleading. "Sasuke—"

You turn yourself away from her harshly, interrupting her again. "I _don't _care." You admit that the words did come out all wrong this time, and that you probably went too far this time, because you can hear her sob and you cannot ignore it. It's right there in front of your eyes and you just can't run away from everything anymore. For such a fearless person, you were afraid of a lot of things. You were afraid of not pleasing people, because you always had to fulfil obligation after obligation. Even if you didn't want to.

You cannot bring yourself to face her as you say the finishing statement. "I don't deserve you, Sakura." Yes, you do. YOU DO!

_...a damn Uchiha, Sasuke._

But you know that when you walk away from her, it's never been about that. It has never been about whether you deserved her or not. It's always been about how you've needed her, because you know you do. It wasn't just because she reminded you of your mother or because she brought out the life in her life. It wasn't just about how you could make her grace _that smile _on her face for you. It was about how you saved her, and how she saved you. Not as an Uchiha, but as _Sasuke. _You were always deemed to be a hero. A hero, for her. Nobody could ever take that away.

You had hoped it to be the end, but you know all too well that it won't be.

* * *

><p>She doesn't talk to you for months.<p>

You stay in your friction between good and evil, your struggle between humanity and heartlessness. You find it so much harder, though, without her. You just can't seem to find the reason to continue on. Every day is a pitiful excuse to a living, because it's just a repetition. You get up, look at the mirror, become bitter, eat some breakfast, drive your car, go to work, get hammered for being a successful Uchiha, go back home, eat alone and go to sleep wondering why the Hell you did this for another day.

You start to think that she will never talk to you again. She shouldn't.

Nobody seems to notice your descent into a deadly abyss, but of course, who would? You're always meant to be perfect.

On one certain working day, you exit the workplace later than usual. You don't have anything better to do anyway, especially at home. Sure, you could eat some food, but you were never such a person with an appetite. You haven't been feeling like eating at all recently, anyway. You carry your suitcase with you and walk with the tiresome drag that you've had for a while now. The lights are still on in the building and there are only about four remaining people in the large, wide hall outside of your office.

They all wave at you as you exit, except one. You don't even want to talk to anyone, though. You fail to notice the one who didn't wave at you watch your exit, and follow after you. You reach the car park at the Audi that fails to fascinate you anymore. Before you can reach for your keys, though, someone reaches out and grabs your shoulder in a menacing grip that was designed to get you to turn around. You do such, placing a threatening scowl on your expression. You're prepared to go to an all new low with your condescension now, because you just don't want to deal with anything.

All the anger and wariness disperses, however, when you see how it is. The sun-kissed blonde hair is unmistakable.

"Naruto," you mutter, glaring at him. "What do you want?" You say it like he always asks for something, even when he doesn't.

His cerulean eyes mould into the coldness that could compare to yours. "What's happened to you, Sasuke?" he asks, sounding appalled, sounding _disappointed. _You smirk to yourself, and you can't quite tell if it's horror or disgust flashing through his eyes when the harshness of your expression accelerates.

You chuckle darkly. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

You turn back to open the door of your car but Naruto just grabs you again. He looks more angrier than you've ever seen him. "Don't pull that bullshit with me, Sasuke," he growls, shooting daggers at you with his eyes. "You were my _best friend_. Look at you. You're a fucking _mess_." How he accentuates the last word abruptly resonates his disappointment towards you, but you are not affected.

When you say nothing in response, he calms down his demeanour, speaking more slowly now. "What did I say about easing it up on the work, Sasuke?" he questions, and you are shot with the memories of him always being the happy-go-lucky best friend, the person you ultimately ended up pushing away because you were too different. Just like Sakura. Naruto lowers his eyes towards the ground in defeat. It looks like the expression you've seen a thousand times now. "You're killing yourself," he says quietly, as if he cared as much as he had before. He probably does, and admittedly, it wrecks your head.

The painful silence envelopes the space between you and Naruto. You don't know what to say, and you're sure that he doesn't know what quite to say either. You assume he's probably formulating ways to try to stop you from the working machine you've become. You've become a mindless robot who's obsessed with success, but not _fulfilment. _You look at Uzumaki Naruto, your ex-best friend, the person who tried to save you. Amongst all of your nothingness, you start to feel twinges of pain. When you were younger, you accepted Naruto as someone who would walk in when everyone would walk out.

He misses the frown that escapes onto your lips as you open the car door. This time you are able to shuffle inside.

You know he's right, though. You are dying. Even if it wasn't physically, you were surely due for an emotional death. There was nothing left inside of your heart. You were draining away. You had been ever since you woke up that morning and saw the note left from your brother when he ran away. You had been ever since you were clutching onto your mother's hand as she died in the hospital. You had been ever since your father commanded you to do everything, for him, not for _you._

They say accepting a problem is one of the hardest things to do. It was. You watch Naruto in your rear mirror as you drive away, and it feels a lot like giving up. He was still looking at the ground, his fists clenched, and his hair no doubt hiding the ruin of his expression. This felt not just like how you walked away from Sakura, but how you have been from everyone. You're not just failing them, because most importantly, you're failing yourself.

The moonlight of the night sky watches above you as you drive into the city lights. It's not even a few minutes until you're gripping onto the driving wheel and grimacing, trying to stop the tears. But once you stop at a red traffic light, the tears undeniably topple over. You brush them away angrily, disappointed at yourself for showing emotion, however most of all scared of what you're feeling.

You are a broken man. Look at yourself. Your eyes no longer shine of the strength they used to, instead they have blue circles that scar the skin underneath them. Your hair is rustled all over the place, as if you got up every morning and appeared straight at work. Your stance is hunched over and you walk with fragility; no confidence. You don't have anymore success because you're working yourself to death. You're no longer wealthy because you don't feel _rich. _Nobody respects you anymore, because guess what, you're an Uchiha, and _nobody gives a fucking damn. _

You're just a clan. A name. A label. Might as well be a number.

Tonight, you don't go home. You don't check your email again and again to see if Sakura had finally decided to contact you again. You don't have a two-hour shower, most of which isn't spent actually washing yourself, but just standing there in the water. You don't lie in bed thinking of every little thing that you shouldn't have said, all the little things that you did wrong. Most of all, you don't pretend that everything's okay... that you have to do this.

You park your car illegally in the middle of a busy bridge, and even worse, there's traffic, but right now you really just don't give a damn. You can hear the beeping of cars and yelling of ignorant people, however soon enough they are tuned out. You walk out of the car, slamming the door roughly and you dredge towards the side of the bridge. The rain had emerged like any cliché movie, and the sick warmth of the water thrashes down onto you like hot acid. You stare out into the open waters that now seem like the Bermuda triangle amongst the storm. Though the waters are vicious, they are inviting. You pause for a moment, because you can't believe that it's come to this.

You had noticed that now some people began to come out of their cars, the decent people actually asking what was wrong. You were very recognisable, so they even called your name, but it was _Mr. Uchiha. _It was never _Sasuke. _Never fucking damn Sasuke. You just wished that _one _person would call out your actual name, just anything to stop you. You needed a reason to not jump off this fucking bridge right now. You're sick of everything. Sick of being obligated. Sick of listening to order after order. Sick of wishing you had ran away. Sick of blaming yourself for your mother's death.

But... you don't have a reason. You don't have a reason, Sasuke. You just aren't _good enough._

You take two more steps, and before you know it, you can feel the rush of vertigo surge towards you. You're now at the edge of the bridge, and people are starting to scream. Some are saying that an ambulance or police should be called. You almost laugh. What can save you now, if Naruto and Sakura couldn't? You count down from ten. People always say that when you face death, you can see your life flash before your eyes. You saw nothing. You saw black, an oblivion stretching in front of you. You saw a sky with no stars of reason and not even a moon for insurance.

It undeniably reaches zero, and you throw yourself over. You turn to have one look at the bridge, and people are gaping with horrified expressions. Some have hands on their lips, and others are attempting to reach forward. But the one thing that stands out that makes you wish you hadn't jumped was the blinding pink amongst all of the black, amongst all of the delirium, the emptiness, the disease.

"Sasuke!" She screams, her anguish penetrating through the air. She sounds petrified. You couldn't protect her.

You collapse into the water, feeling the cold crush into your veins and dismantle your strength. At that moment, you let everything go. You let go of reputation, success, wealth, the clan name, your father, _everything. _You let go of everything but yourself. You realise as the numbing waters wrap their arms of death around you that you should've done this years ago. You should have chosen yourself, Sasuke.

As your consciousness fades away, the last thing you can hear is her angel's voice amongst all of the Hell.

_You aren't just an Uchiha._

So don't die as one.

* * *

><p>Well...<p>

This has got to be one of the most depressing stories I've ever written, if not the most depressing. I've got to admit, I cried while writing this one. I've always wanted to make a story on how Sasuke's just about as human as all of us because he's always seen as heartless, a demon, evil and all that jazz. But I've always known that he's not, so that's why I wrote this. I got a lot of the ideas from Wall Street with Gordon Gekko and I think that Sasuke's a lot like him, you know, the whole anti-hero deal and always conflicting between the hero and the villain.

**Yes, I will continue this story with a second chapter. It was deemed to be a one-shot, but since I'm already at the five thousand word mark I had to take a break. I've pretty much got the ending in mind.**


	2. Chapter 2

_I guess you have an advantage,_

_Because you could blame me for everything._

_But I don't know how I will manage,_

_If one day you just up and leave._

* * *

><p><strong>Turbulence II<strong>

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><p>The moment you wake up, you know from the very beginning that something is different.<p>

At first, it is the strangest feeling. It is as if you have been sleeping for a thousand years and have woken into a completely different alternate universe. Everything is clean, fresh and new... but it is the type of unfamiliarity that is not at all comforting; it is strange, confronting and... somewhat intimidating. You see the unbearable white walls and feel that you are immobilized into your place on a bed that you have never seen before. Your body is aching for some reason that you cannot understand. You feel like you have countless wounds that are indented into your skin, and with any sort of movement, they would ache. Your head hurts the most: it is sizzling with an eternal burn.

Your sight is blurry and everything feels sickening because you don't know what the Hell you are doing here, but you convince yourself to get a hold of yourself. You clench the rails of your bed before hauling your arms forward, ignoring the sting as you do so, to rub your eyes. Once you do, a towering figure comes into view. It looms over you and suddenly all you can see is a mane of black. The figure places something that feels like a hand onto your forehead which is covered by a sheen of sweat. "Sasuke?" The person says, the voice thick, firm and masculine.

You feel increasingly dizzy as the person pushes, from your back, into a sitting position onto the bed. You start getting paranoid. _What is happening to me? _"Sasuke," he repeats, an unusually soothing voice. "Son, calm down. I am your father, Fugaku." Before you can make any sense of what he has said, a horde of what you assume to be nurses enter the room, presumably talking to your 'father' about the condition. You realise that you are in a hospital because they are telling him that you are ready to go home.

But you cannot understand. What is home? Who is this 'father' of yours? Where even are you? And most importantly, what happened to you to get here? Why can't you _remember _anything?

The whisper of the word 'amnesia' flows into your head as you are pulled from the bed and put on your feet. You wobble with your stance but in a matter of seconds you are stable again. You turn to the mirror before you look at your 'father.' You notice that he does look quite like you, apart from being much more older and looking far more serious. He appears to be stronger than you as well, because he seems so much more firmer, whilst your expression and attire has been weakened down. He has spikier hair than you and his skin is not as pale, but most definitively, he has line marks travelling from the curve of his eyes to each side of his nose.

Though he most probably really is your father, it's still hard to believe, and everything is so surreal. When you exit the hospital, you walk metres away from each other and the distance tightens in between, acting as a constriction of some sorts. You start to think that it's not just because of the amnesia that makes you assume that it's been like this for a long, long time.

The entire walk home is silent. You do notice, however, how he takes some analytical glances towards you, as if he's trying to convince himself that his own son has amnesia. You don't see any sadness flash in his eyes, but you swear his expression loosens just a little bit when he does look at you. Maybe even soften.

Once you reach your home, you are shocked by the sight of a mansion. Your father walks to enter the key into the lock, and when he does, he mutters smoothly that it is your home. He slams the door in your face before you can even enter, not as a notion to stop you from coming in, but telling you to do it yourself. You take a few seconds to regain from the coldness of your father, and walk in after him.

In the main hallway, you can see that there are many photos that seem to gleam amongst all of the darkness. There are two reoccurring characters: a younger male, and an older female. The younger male strikes you the most because he looks so much like you. He is indeed appearing to be a few years older than you, and apart from the long hair tied into a ponytail and the pronounced tear troughs that acquaint his eyes, he is not that at all different from you.

You notice the most, though, how warm his eyes are. They may not have been as loving and caring as the older female's were, but it just seems right for that warmth to have been directed to you. The last photo you view is one with all of you together. The younger male is ruffling your hair while giving a tentative smile. Your father looks as stern as ever, but what you assume to be your mother shines the most.

You are sure now that the younger male is your brother as he shares the tear troughs of your father, but something makes you think that your brother and your mother are long gone. You feel inflictions of pain, especially when you look at your mother, who is startlingly beautiful. She has the smoothest pale skin and the gentlest obsidian eyes, but flowing hair is more of a shade of navy.

You turn back to your father who is preparing dinner, and though it's hard to turn away from these photos which are for some reason compelling, you pull yourself away and walk to the table where you sit down cautiously. In a matter of minutes time, you can smell a delicious scent that seems all too familiar, and your father is readily bringing a bowl of tomato soup. He sets it down in front of you and takes longer than he should to walk away.

He purses his lips. "Your favourite," he says, almost mumbling. You watch him return to the kitchen basin before you start eating.

He turns on the television, not preparing any food for himself. He flickers on some of the channels, but something seems to stop him in his tracks. You turn to the screen and see an accumulation of lights, no doubt caused by traffic. You receive something eerie from the scene, because there's screaming and the beeping of cars all muddled together.

Your father does not once look at you as the scene unravels. He just stares blankly at the screen. It's quickly becomes blatant that it is a news report, but it slowly disentangles of what the report is actually about. The camera seems to be twitching all over the place until it stops on one person who looks as miserable as death and leaning over a certain bridge.

He looks a lot like you… because he is you.

You almost choke on your apparently favourite meal as you watch yourself fall. A scream that is louder and more piercing than usual fills the air and the camera switches immediately to a woman who is your age. Everyone in the scene looked horrified, but nobody looked as torn up as she did.

You swallow, your insides burning at how pained she appears. You feel a sudden urge to protect, to wrap your arms around her, even if you cannot recognise whatsoever who she is. The abnormal pink hair and emerald eyes are something you feel at home with, and as she screeches your name, you indeed do not feel like it's been the first time.

Before you can muse any longer, your father switches off the television abruptly. He turns to you, wrestling with his thoughts. You stop eating your tomato soup and your spoon clatters against the edge of the bowl as you drop it. You both stare at each other, unyielding, but you know nothing will feel comfortable unless one of you speaks.

"Sasuke," he says rather boldly, despite the situation, "I was disappointed." Though his tone doesn't quite sound as harsh as it has, you take it as a negative comment, and stand up from your chair. Disappointed at you attempting to commit suicide? Who exactly _is _this man?

Even though you have no idea how to find your way around this gigantic house, you just suddenly feel like walking away from him, until his words stop you again.

"I was disappointed," he repeats quietly, the sorrow finally seeping through, "that you tried to be like me." You gradually turn back to him, more than shocked. His eyes penetrate into your own as if trying to convince you that he truly is being sincere. You fail to form words but somehow, you are magnetised to apologise and to say that it isn't his fault.

As he walks in an opposite direction to what you were exiting, you find yourself convinced that perhaps your father isn't as cold as he seems. And erringly enough, he seems to blame himself for your apparent suicide attempt. You are utterly confused at this moment, and though you don't know anything, you feel that you have been doing everything wrong lately.

But strangely enough, jumping off that bridge seems to be the only right thing that you have ever done.

* * *

><p>It takes you a few days before you are able to actually leave your house.<p>

You feel that everyone knows more than you do, because they do. Your family name seems to be exceedingly high in status too, but your father believes that your recent controversy would not be faced well by the public. You can tell that he's hinting a fall in reputation, however not once does he place any type of blame onto you.

Every day, it is the same routine. He doesn't really ever say that much to you, only apart from when he's leaving to go to work. He's noted to you previously that you do a similar job that he does, but every time he comes back home with bags under his eyes, a daunting scowl on his lips and everything in sight unruffled, you wonder how on Earth he survives it, because you know you _didn't._

You find yourself increasingly nervous to face the outside world because of the judgmental eyes that await. Nonetheless, you suppose that one day, you will have to do it, and it's better getting it done quicker than slower. Once you walk outside the main door for the first time in a week, there's a certain freshness that you can't put your finger on. It feels like waking up after spending years as a recluse, and really, this isn't that inaccurate of a comparison. You expect to see flashing cameras and microphones bombard you the second you exit the gates that divide reality from the mansion, but instead you receive a tackling blow of a hug.

The force is so strong that it sends you falling back onto the soft glass, and you're suddenly thanking God that it wasn't cement. Your sight is blinded by that of a yellow that could compare to the sun, and the brightness is so unrivalled that the daylight may as well now be compounding darkness. You're too frozen to even push this insane person off you. You have long acknowledged that you didn't seem to be that much a fan of physical contact, but this was really just pushing your bounds. Nonetheless, opposing this is the striking familiarity you feel as this strange, strange person holds you, filled with warmth.

You look down at his blinding hair, and just as you're about to tell him to get off, you hear him crying.

He takes his own time to pull himself off you, his expression relieved, but at the same time melancholic. He has the blue eyes of the ocean that seem so clean and clear and you know immediately that you somewhat saw him as the surrogate brother: replacing the actual brother whom you assume you have lost.

He wipes his eyes and laughs weakly. "Sasuke," he exclaims, his grin penetrating his jaw, "It's great to have you back." His eyes are illuminated with a marine glisten.

You look at him confusingly. He says it as if you've been dead for a long time. How would you really know, though? You are reminded by yourself that this man probably knows much more about you than you could imagine, and part of you fears that knowledge.

Given your blank expression, he scratches his head and laughs again, but it's even weaker. The shine of his eyes dulls as he glances at you more firmly this time. "You don't remember me anymore, do you?" You aren't quite sure how he manages to say that without a break in his voice because he appears to be someone very close to you. Nevertheless, you feel obligated to say something that will cheer him up, but you've never liked being a liar.

"No." You don't know what else to say.

He shakes visibly with your reply, and you clench your teeth. "I am sorry," you offer, though it is said with nothing behind it.

He shakes his head and waves his hand in dismissal. "Don't worry," he mutters, looking away from you now, "Sakura told me that something like this would happen." _Sakura_? You question inwardly. Was that the girl who screamed as she watched you fall? You fight to not remember the scene, but you are sure that it is her. Who else would it be?

Surprising you, he punches your arm jokingly, taking you out of your trance. "You should see her, you know," he requests quietly. You don't know what makes him think that someone like a stranger as he is could convince you to see another stranger, but the determination that lingers in his voice compels you.

He holds your shoulder with a strong hold and smiles sadly as he stares at you. "I mean it, Sasuke," he declares whilst you take a step back from his hand. The way he says it is as if this is a life or death situation, like this Sakura needs to see you. But once again, what do you know? She couldn't just be anyone if she appeared to be traumatised by your suicide attempt.

You know that she's not just anyone. It isn't just an assumption.

So you nod in affirmation and his smile ascends into a gleam again. He laughs more lively and with genuineness this time. As you walk away, he calls after you. "She's at the city hospital, Sasuke. And by the way, I'm Naruto. Uzumaki Naruto."

Though it may seem like you ignored him, you didn't. Not at all.

_Naruto, thank you…_

* * *

><p>You find it ironic that the place where this Sakura is located is at the hospital... where all of this began.<p>

You can't help to wonder why she wasn't there when you woke up almost all of the distress and chaos. You shrug off the thought and walk into the hospital. Because of how improved your stance has became, from fragile to stern, people would never notice that you would be an amnesiac. You pass the judgemental glances and questions from nurses to why you are back to the hospital but you don't acknowledge them, because you have nothing to answer to. How could people expect answers if you don't have the knowledge for replies in the first place?

You end up at what you assume to be the receptionist, and one nurse walks towards you, smiling sweetly. "Uchiha Sasuke," she says, a little bit more saccharine than what you are comfortable with, "what could we do for you today?" You force back the desire to glare at her and look elsewhere, searching for a certain item. You find it: a roll to all of the nurses in the hospital. You look down the list of names and push the roll towards the nurse once you find Sakura's name, and it is apparent that her surname is Haruno. You place your finger on her name and look at the nurse with an obvious question.

"Why do you want her?" the nurse asks in a rather accusatory tone, though you give no response. "Aren't you alright now, Mr. Uchiha?"

You roll your eyes and push the roll further towards her. "I would like to talk to her, thank you," you reply dismissively. The nurse seems to be offended by your own tone of voice, but nonetheless she relents with a sigh and goes to pick up the phone, no doubt to tell Sakura. It only takes a few minutes for the nurse to retrieve Sakura, at which you see her coming down the stairs and taking off her translucent white gloves. At first, she seems bothered by the fact that someone wanted to distract her from her work, but at the sight of you, her expression immediately brightens.

She almost prances towards you and you raise an eyebrow at her antics. Her pearly white teeth shine along with her grin and she comes up a metre close to you, planting her hands together. Her eyes seem to be glimmering unusually. "I can't believe you came," she says softly, looking down to the ground, obviously surprised by your choice to come. You shrug and stuff your hands into your pockets. She glances back up at you and laughs. "You haven't changed," she murmurs... in disappointment? Nostalgia? Sadness? You can't tell.

Abruptly, she takes one of your hands in hers and though the gesture causes you to flinch, you allow yourself to be pulled along. You watch how happy and serene she appears, and it seems too cruel to pull away from her. You feel strongly obligated to follow on and do everything she wants. Out of anyone, even your father, you feel that you have to please her the most. Perhaps that was because before all this happened, you let her down the most too.

She drags you along to a park that you swear you've seen before. You arrive below the shade of a cherry blossom tree, and the colour of the flowers readily acquaint the colour of her hair. She picks out one flower and places it in her hair, blushing prettily as she does. You don't say anything, you only watch. You are magnetised to just stare at her, as if she is the rising sun of a day. You sit against the trunk of the tree and wait for her to speak as she sits next to you. She turns to you with an expression of pure wonderment, but then something changes and she glances away from you out to the view of the populated city.

"I suppose you don't remember me," she muses, more to herself than you. She has the same residue of sadness in her voice that Naruto had. She huffs and pulls her knees up to her chest. "What else could I expect, though? After all that happened..." she trails off, leaving an atmosphere of unease and heavy anticipation.

You look at her in question. "What did happen, Sakura?" You ask easily in your serious voice, hinting that you want a truthful and firm answer. She seems to be shocked at the knowledge that you know her name, but she brushes that off and sighs.

She finally stares at you square in the eyes as she speaks. "Things got hard for you, Sasuke," she whispers, considerably weakening now, "Things had been hard for years now. You were pushing us away... me, Naruto... your father." She says the last person with caution, as if you would grow angry with the mention. You don't. You just wait for her to continue. She gazes back into the scenery and her eyes begin to water. "One night, it became apparent that you just couldn't take it anymore—the job, the clan name, the expectations and obligations... Sasuke, you always have been a good person. This is why I couldn't have blamed you when you tried to kill yourself." She swivels her head to face you again, and it is more than obvious that she is crying now, like little, trickling waterfalls.

She swallows once and speaks again, her voice shaking now. "I remember when I saw you fall that I thought what life would be like without you. I didn't know what to think or do, because I was screaming... I was so scared. I thought you were really going to die once you hit the ocean." She wipes her eyes in an attempt to stop the tears, but they are overflowing now. You clench your hands into fists. Why would you have left this girl? Your thoughts of regret are once again punctured by her trembling voice. "Then... it happened," she says, a smile pouring onto her face, "I knew it was right when I decided to do it. I ran to the edge of the bridge that you just jumped off... and went after you."

You try not to widen your eyes in shock because you have always been the type to be nonchalant, but this time you can't help it. The purity of her expression assures you that she is not lying, but also that she was not afraid to do such a thing. She takes your hand in hers again and though her skin is clammy and sweaty, you know this is right. She uses her other hand to comb your bangs back behind your ears and caress your cheek. The golden touch that her fingers provide are incomparable to any warmth that you have felt; they leave blazing trails of liquid fire amongst your skin.

"You're probably wondering why I did it, since I'm a stranger and all," she laughs weakly, the look in her eyes of unadulterated adoration, "And I went after you, Sasuke-kun, because I realised that the prospect of dying is hardly as frightening as the prospect of living without you." The words ring through your head, even when she keeps caressing you, even when she squeezes your hand and even when she laughs softly again. You can't comprehend the love she offers because even now you do not feel like a person who deserves to accept it.

A silence fills the space that feels like a thousand miles between you and Sakura, though you are sure you could just be like this forever. You are sure now that you could sit with her, saying nothing at all, and feel absolutely complete and fulfilled. With all the horrors of amnesia and having discovered your suicide attempt, all of that is nothing when you are with her. You just don't understand how you could not have realised that before you jumped off that bridge.

She lets go off your hand and stops caressing your cheek, to which you turn to look at her, asking a question and slightly disappointed by the loss of contact. She's still smiling, though, but in a more ironic way this time. "You always thought we were too different," she remarks, and you can't tell whether or not she was pained by this, "like we were both at the opposite sides of the spectrum. Light and darkness. Love and hate. Pink and blue. You always thought we were too different to ever be together."

You don't know what propels you to say what you are just about to, but it comes out of no where in your mind, like you had dug it in at the back for a very long time. "I lied," you say roughly, almost ashamed at the admission. Her own eyes widen in shock and she purses her lips to say something, but nothing comes out. You drill your eyes into hers, convincing her of the truth. "It was an excuse," you mutter. _Because you have always been good enough for me. Because you have always been perfect. _

You spot something in the distance that could help direct your point. You stand up and she looks up at you in question, but you gesture her to stay where she is, motioning that you will be back. You walk over to one of the more flourishing grass fields and pick up three items. You keep two of the three items in sight, and place the other item gently into your pocket. You come back to her and sit in front of her this time, looking down at the two items that you hold in her hand. She does too.

What you hold is a pink cherry blossom and a blue tulip. "Do you know what pink and blue represent, Sakura?" You ask quietly, and she looks at you with an absolutely confused expression. You smirk with amusement and hold up each one as you speak. "Pink represents femininity, love, gratitude—" you gaze up deeper into her eyes, "—and happiness. Blue represents loyalty, trust and unity; and to some extent, peace." You give the pink cherry blossom to her, and she holds it in her hands, twirling it slightly. Your smirk only becomes more confident and greater. "So what happens when you have pink and blue together?"

She just shakes her head, noting that she doesn't know, but you can tell by her eyes that she is eager to. You bring out the other item that you had placed in your pocket beforehand and hold it between you and Sakura. The item is a lavender, soft and delicate. "When you have pink and blue together," you reiterate, "you end up with a lavender like colour... pale purple." You bring the lavender to skim your nose so that you can revel in its smooth and unique scent. You give it to her to smell and as she does, her smile is much more beautiful.

You take a breath in and though you acknowledge that you may be painfully cliché at this very moment and that in perspective you don't really know who this girl is, you feel that you can take the first step in starting to learn. "I may have said that we were complete opposites, Sakura," you murmur with your velvet voice, "and it may be true, as well. We may be pink and blue but what matters is what we make when we come together. And we make a lavender—which represents something precious, something special. Lavenders have always had a sacred place in nature, after all... like you have always had with me." Your ears tint minutely red at the confession, but that's the closest hint in your expression that shows any embarrassment.

You stare at her for a couple of seconds, the neither of you believing that you just said what you actually just said, but once you see her eyes well with tears again, this time of happiness, you know that everything will be okay. She throws herself on you, and like the embrace with Naruto, it reassures you that in this world, people really do care. And for whatever reason you threw yourself off that bridge, it doesn't really matter now, because that reason has obviously been erased. You have a new life and you have a new path. It had been mentioned that you done it out of pressure for your clan name, but this time, you can be _Sasuke. _You don't have to be an Uchiha, and to be frank, you never should have to go back to being one.

She holds you close and whispers into your chest as you lean your head on the top of hers. "I have always loved you, Sasuke-kun," she says, and you know that despite the fact your memory has realistically just begun, this will be the most wonderful thing you will remember in your entire life.

"Aa," you reply, rather characteristic of you, but it is not one bit disappointing to the ears of Sakura, because inside of your voice is the weaving of the reciprocation that she has ached for many years. You grip the sides of her head gently with your hands so that you can pull her back to your eye level. After a few moments, you pull her back towards you, placing a light, feathery kiss on her forehead. She giggles at the sensation, upholding the innocence of her persona, before you and Sakura return to your previous position.

Though you have held the very essence of survival and life the second you woke up in the hospital, you believe that holding her is so much better.

* * *

><p>The next few months are spent refreshing your life and getting a better hold with things.<p>

You have decided to do a much more fulfilling job than what your father has told you that you were doing before, and though you had expected your father to be disappointed at your choice of changing, he gives you nothing other than a reaffirming ghost of a smile. There are still a few missing pieces in your life such as the knowledge of your mother and of course, even more so, your own brother. Because you have known that your mother had died from cancer, you still wish so much to know what it felt like being loved by her. Unfortunately, she is truly long gone, where as your brother is merely accounted as missing.

This gives you a new-found determination to spend your days thinking of how to find him, other than the time you are spent being a physics, mathematics and economics professor at the city university. At first, Naruto and Sakura had both laughed endlessly at your choice, but accepted that due to your natural intelligence and intuitive aptitude, you were fit for the job. Though at times, the girls who are merely just a few years younger than you spend the entire lecture daydreaming about you, you suppose it is better than just working yourself off to death as a CEO. You still can't guess how your father handles remaining as his own CEO, but he always has been a strong man.

What you don't realise about your brother is the fact that he has never been the one to be found. He has always been the one to find others.

Exactly this happens on one of your typical nights spent in your own bedroom in your new house that you share with Sakura. Your house is quite modern, but it is not the modern that would appear to be exactly futuristic. It is a simplistic house that only contains two stories, spacial rooms, clean glass flooring and colourfully painted walls, much thanks to the imagination of Sakura. Your relationship with Sakura is taken slow so she still remains in her own bedroom, however you are sure that it will not be a large amount of time until you are ready to share a bed together.

After all, as you take out the delicate diamond ring that you hold in the moonlight, glimmering with its natural sparkle—you know that you will be surely certain with every decision that you make from now. You are no longer forced, obligated or expected to do anything. You smirk in tranquillity and lay the diamond ring back in its case and into its unsuspecting 'hiding place' and lay in your bed. It is only a few seconds that an unfamiliar shadow casts on the sheets of your bed, and you know that is not from the light of the moon.

The shadow is in the silhouette of a person. The ponytail is unmistakable... but most importantly, so is the clan symbol that becomes very much so apparent as the figure reveals its back to you. He turns his head, his hair swaying with the breeze, his tentative smile at home with you. You sit up slowly, not sure how to take the situation. His eyes are as onyx as ever, and his tear troughs are even more pronounced. He would be around thirty in age, but he still looks as young as twenty.

"Itachi?" You ask, though you already know it is him.

He jumps with pageantry from the branch beside the window that he had been sitting on, and the branch rebounds with the loss of weight. He lands softly in your room, hardly making any noise. You are pleased with that result as you wouldn't want Sakura waking up. She would be shocked beyond belief—even more so than you are now.

He nods in recognition and confirmation. "Little brother," he says with a portion of amusement. He stands at your height and you note how his physique is much more lean and loose than your more firm and muscular one. He walks towards you to sit on the side of the bed, looking analytically around the room, probably marking some changes and of course, the photos. He picks up one particular frame. One that has you and Sakura holding each other together rather happily.

"Your girlfriend," he murmurs, without even having to ask. His smile becomes much more noticeable as he looks back at you, appearing to be satisfied, and even proud of you. You watch him without saying anything as he replaces the frame and picks up another one that is perhaps this time, much more precious than the one before. It is a family photo of all of you—you, your brother, your father and your mother. His smile takes a turn towards the nostalgic and reminiscent side. He stares at the photo for a couple of moments before turning back to you again.

He takes time to speak. "How is father?" he inquiries, the curiosity obvious.

You shrug. "Fine." You lean back on the wall beside your bed and scrutinise your brother. He seems like a very passive and calm person, unlike your short fuse. You know what you really want to ask, though. "How did you find me?"

He chuckles throatily, shaking his head, as if it was a very funny question. He just smiles at you. "The media has always been nosy, Sasuke." At this remark, you know that he found you on news reports (that annoyingly enough still liked to invade into your life and what was going on after your suicide attempt—though that happened _months _ago); however, if he had seen those news reports, he would have seen the one on your particular jump over your bridge. The dark alternation in his eyes marks this.

He says nothing, though, apart from: "I had to find you." You just nod at this admission and look elsewhere. It's strange having this brotherly bond emerge from nowhere because you have never known a brother figure in your entire life. Naruto had gotten close but it just wasn't the same type of compatibility and understanding that you knew you shared with Itachi from square one. After a few moments of silence, Itachi decides to speak up again, with more certainty this time. He picks up the family photo that he had before and hands it to you. You look at him with an expression of peculiarity but he just nudges the frame towards you. You take it with one hand and wait for him to direct you with whatever he wants you to do. He smiles grimly. "Have you ever checked behind that photograph?"

_Have you ever checked behind that photograph? _The words repeat in your mind before you actually understand them. You separate the frame from the fragile photograph and with cold hands, you turn it over.

You swear that you have to read the neat cursive message over and over until you return back to reality. You glance to Itachi, whose expression is a mix of happiness, sadness, patience and all the same, waiting for forgiveness. You don't know why he's asking for forgiveness because he appears to be rather largely apologetic, but this message seems to put everything right. You honestly don't care that he left years ago, as that means nothing if he ends up coming back. After all, thanks to your amnesia, you cannot remember the pain you felt of him leaving—and you cannot get close to imagining it, either.

You think through your words before you say them. "You did the right thing, you know, Itachi," you speak in a surprisingly reassuring tone, something you hardly do every day, before smirking in your own brotherly way. Itachi returns your smirk with his usual compassionate smile. He leans over to ruffle your hair and the unspoken words of _you did the right thing too, Sasuke _come into plain air. He knows that you are talking about his leaving and you know that he is talking about your suicide attempt, so everything is understood. Everything is without cracks. Everything is finally healed.

You take one more look at the impacting message before returning the photograph to its frame.

_Sasuke, my little brother, I'm sorry. The only thing I can hope for is that when you find this message, I will be back. Itachi_

* * *

><p>This was a really weird ending, because everything came out happily, and I don't do that often. However, I can't say that I'm disappointed or I dislike this, because I really like the idea of a renewed Sasuke. I have also always adored Itachi's character so he had to be in this story. I've got to say, though, the scene with Sakura I thought was really corny... but I just came up with it and went with it. The meanings of blue, pink and lavender are all fact.<p>

I might add more to the ending however right now I like where it finished, the resolving of a long-time mystery, being Itachi's leaving and everything of sorts. The problems with Naruto, Sakura and Fugaku have also obtained solutions so I think I'm pretty much done here. For now though, for now. :)


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